


Long Days, Longer Nights

by moonside



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftercare, Blissed Out Prompto, Dom!Noctis, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, PWP, Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Restraints, Sex Toys, mild edging, really this is literally just pure smut, use of the word highness in bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 19:21:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11538807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonside/pseuds/moonside
Summary: “You gonna be good?” Noctis asks, voice quiet, as he lifts his head up. His lips are quirked into a smirk. His eyes are narrowed. He looks very pleased with himself.Prompto shudders. Good. Yeah, he knows what’s coming, if he can just keep it together. He wants it, and desperately, so he nods, licking lips that are way too dry, “yes, Highness. I’ll be good for you.”





	Long Days, Longer Nights

“Long day?” Prompto asks, between heated, frenzied kisses. It’s a question he doesn’t need to ask. He _knows_ it must’ve been one hell of a day. It’s late, Noct’s home goddamn late, and Prompto can sense the exhaustion weighing his best friend down. More than that, Prompto senses the rush of magic thrilling through, filling the room, working its way into all the empty spaces. Prompto knows that in some ways, Noct hates the magic. In other ways, he loves it, can’t get enough.

 

Prompto? Well. He doesn’t think he’s in any real position to judge, but he has to admit, he’s a bit addicted.

 

His feet hit the back of Noct’s bed, so Prompto sits down, heavily, and scoots back. Noctis follows, crawling into his lap and straddling his hips, perching there like it’s a fucking throne, like it’s made for him. And maybe it is, the way Noct’s breaking the heated kisses, head held high, tipped at an inquisitive angle, eyes all narrowed slits of vibrant, stormy blue, occasionally flickering with hints of purple swirls. All magic, yeah, but mostly just Noct. Always just Noct.

 

“Long day,” Noctis agrees. Then. “Can we?” Slowly. His tongue darts out to wet his already kiss-swollen lips. Prompto swallows heavily. His pulse is going wildfire, his heart thumping in his chest. Everything feels hot, too hot, and his body itches for Noct’s touch. His pants are already a tad too tight. Noctis doesn’t ask for more, but he doesn’t have to. His weight is settled comfortably across Prompto’s lap. Their hips are close – enough that Prompto could rock forward, could find some delicious friction, but he doesn’t. He stays still, one hand braced on the mattress behind him, head tipping up to meet Noct’s gaze.

 

Noctis doesn’t need to ask more than that. He doesn’t need to say _what,_ because Prompto understands, a whole lot of silent things running between them with just an exchange of looks, with just those two damn words.

 

“Fuck. Yeah. Noct,” Prompto nods, and that’s all he needs to say before Noctis is pushing him back against the bed. His hands are pinning back, over his head, and Prompto shudders. Noctis crawls on top of him, lazy, catlike, eyes still narrowed, more blue and bright and shining now than anything else, and it makes Prompto shudder, again. His hips are trying to rock up, impatient, even as much as he’s stilling them.

 

“What’s my name, Prom?” Noctis asks, as he works hot, wet kisses down Prompto’s jaw. He pauses to suck at his earlobe, tongue laving over sensitive skin, and Prompto damn near keens.

 

“A-ah… _Prince Noctis,”_ he manages, even with his voice shaking, unsteady and needy already, “my prince, Highness, f-fuck….”

 

“Good boy,” Noctis purrs, drawing back a little, and Prompto really can’t help it. His hips jerk up, just for the slightest taste of friction, grinding into the meat of Noct’s thigh, all delicious, muscular heat through the fabric of his pants.

 

Noct’s hands find Prompto’s hips and snap him back down to the bed. “I didn’t say you could do that yet,” he lectures. His voice is lazy, goddamnit, and it’s just got Prompto biting his lip and whining, already. It’s unfair, really, how fast Noctis can get to him. He always knows _just_ what to say. Though, to be fair, Prompto knows how to work Noct too, how to gasp out the title, blissful and needy, and he’s pretty sure he’s not the only one who’s already worked up.

 

Noct’s lips work down Prompto’s jaw, dipping below the hem of the t-shirt he’s wearing – one of Noct’s - and Prompto groans, head tipping back, his hips forced still by Noct’s hand, and by sheer will of mind.

 

“You gonna be good?” Noctis asks, voice quiet, as he lifts his head up. His lips are quirked into a smirk. His eyes are narrowed. He looks _very_ pleased with himself.

 

Prompto shudders. _Good._ Yeah, he knows what’s coming, if he can just keep it together. He wants it, and desperately, so he nods, licking lips that are way too dry, “yes, Highness. I’ll be good for you.”

 

That answer satisfies Noctis, and he withdraws a little, sits up on his haunches between Prompto’s parted legs, lazily reaching behind him to rummage through the bedside drawer. “Thought so. Clothes off, Prom. Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself.”

 

Prompto’s quick to obey, as he scoots himself back to settle against the headboard of Noct’s big, fancy bed. The t-shirt comes off first, tossed playfully in Noct’s direction. He shimmies out of his pants and boxers in one go, hips lifting, showing off his already half-hard cock in a nice, eager display. Noct is pretending not to be interested, still rifling through the drawer, but Prompto knows him. He knows Noctis, and he sees the flash of interest in his eyes, the intensity of his gaze as he watches.

 

There’s the urge, too, to touch himself, to _purposely_ disobey. The urge to obey his prince, though, is stronger, to earn more of those delicious praises. It has Prompto shuddering, has his cock twitching to full hardness against the planes of his belly, without even touching himself, and he sighs, makes a low, needy sound and settles back comfortably, stretching a little and attempting to make himself look as appealing as possible.

 

Realistically, Prompto’s not sure if he looks that good. He’s put on some muscle, thanks to hours spent in the gym with Noct and his guard. He leaned out a whole lot with running, developed strong calves and thighs, but now his arms are getting there, too. And under pale, freckled skin and silvery-thin stretch marks, Prompto’s pretty sure he’s got the beginning definition of abs, a whole lot of new definition that he’s not sure of.

 

It doesn’t matter when Noct’s eyes flash over though, because Prompto _feels_ the goddamn approval. He believes, truly, honestly, that Noctis finds him attractive. That Noct wants him.

 

“Tell me,” Noctis says, almost conversationally, as he pulls something out of the drawer, “what you _want.”_ Prompto lifts himself up onto his elbows a little. Noct’s already tossed the well-used tube of lubricant on the bed. Next to it, is a toy, his _favourite_ one, and it already has Prompto rocking his hips up into the air. It’s been a few days, and it’s nobody’s fault, Noct’s just been so damn _busy._ Prompto’s never been the most patient, either, damnit. Noctis is lazily stroking his fingers around the flared head of a plug, thick and silicone and heavy, and it makes Prompto’s cock twitch against his tummy.

 

“I want you,” Prompto says, simply, “fuck, whatever you wanna give me, Highness, please.”

 

Noctis makes a quiet, pleased noise. He goes back into the drawer. Prompto resists the urge to touch his cock, and his fingers fist into the sheets instead.

 

“You’re so impatient, Prompto,” Noctis replies, and he’s so goddamn casual. All of this is too fucking casual, it’s driving Prompto insane. He wants to grab his best friend by the shirt and drag him in for a hot kiss. He wants to grind their hips together, to get Noct _naked_ and pressed close, and –

 

Noct’s hovering over him, and Prompto whimpers, outright fucking _whines,_ as Noct grabs his wrists roughly and tugs them over his head. He falls back onto the bed, the twist a little painful, but a _good_ pain, one that has his eyes watering and his cock throbbing, Noctis winding a thick, leather strap around his wrists, pinning him.

 

“So you don’t fuck around,” Noctis says, satisfied. Prompto tests the straps, and he’s pleased that there’s no give to them. The leather cuts in a little, and it’s a satisfying little dig, nothing too painful, but enough to remind him that he’s bound. Restrained. At Noctis’s mercy.

 

And honestly, Prompto doesn’t mind a little bit of pain.

 

“Yes, highness,” Prompto says dutifully, and he bites his lip, his eyes wide and needy as they meet Noct’s.

 

Noctis smirks. He tugs his shirt off over his head, and Prompto watches eagerly. Noct’s slender, but he’s all muscle, from hours of being forced to train with Gladio and manipulate the magic. Prompto has learned to _appreciate,_ very fully, every goddamn aspect of Noct’s body, and it’s on display for him. His fingers twitch, and Prompto makes a little show of struggling against the bonds, because he knows Noct will get off on the fact that he wants to touch and he _can’t._

“I think,” Noctis says, still so goddamn casual, as he picks up the plug, lazily running his tongue along the smooth silicone, before going for the lube, “that you wanna be stuffed full like the slut you are, huh, Prom?”

 

“Fuck,” Prompto shudders, quite eloquently, twisting up, to try and get a better look. One of Noct’s hands presses down on his stomach, pushing Prompto back into the bed, and he groans and tries to rock up into the hand that’s stroking along the firm lines of his abdomen.

 

“Not an answer,” Noct says, a little harshly. Fuck. Prompto’s cock is already way too hard. His thighs are trembling a little. Goddamn.

 

“Yes, Highness,” Prompto breathes out, trembling thighs parting, inviting, opening himself up a little. He’s well aware that he looks like a whore, on display, ass lifting off the bed as much as he can manage. He’s already panting a little, too.

 

“Better.”

 

Noctis doesn’t bother with fingers. He doesn’t fucking have to, they do this enough, and they’ve used this particular plug before before. Prompto can take it. He slicks up the toy with a coat of lube, and then the blunt dip is pressing against tight muscle, working into Prompto’s ass. It’s tight, stretching and burning in a delicious way, one that has Prompto’s erection angry and red, the first beads of precome pearling at the tip. Prompto’s head falls back against the pillow and he moans, lifting his hips up as the thick middle of the toy works him open, stretches his rim red and raw, fills him up. His greedy ass sucks the toy in, until just the flared base rests outside. Prompto knows, of course, if he shifts just right, that he can move the toy inside, that he can grind it up against his prostate, that he’ll be seeing stars.

 

Noctis knows that too, because he moves in, straddling Prompto’s hips and holding him down, fingers stroking slow and lazy over the underside of Prompto’s cock, tracing over a thick vein.

 

“Question for you, Prompto,” Noctis says. He’s still talking in that fucking ridiculous, casual voice, the one that’s so out place here, that it’s goddamn outright erotic. Noctis tips his head down. His eyes are shining violet in the dim light. His bangs are swept sideways over his forehead, and he looks almost _bored._ It’s not even fair how good Noctis looks.

 

“H-Highness?” There’s a slight hitch to Prompto’s voice. He’s trying to jerk his hips up, but Noct’s weight is holding him down, firmly. His cock is leaking as Noct’s fingers stroke up the shaft, to settle at tracing right under the ridge of the head of his cock. He’s honed in on a sensitive spot, one that has Prompto’s breath catching in his throat, has him almost _whining_ already, heat pooling in his belly.

 

“How many times do you think you can come in a row?” Noctis asks, and his fingers curl around Prompto’s cock, and give a heavy, rough stroke, base to tip, thumb swiping over the dripping tip and spreading precome around.

 

Prompto _moans._ Fuck, he can’t help it. He feels full, the toy inside of him pressing inside in _not_ quite the right way, but working him open and wide, making him feel used, like he’s nothing but Noct’s dirty whore. Noct’s eyes are on him too, roaming appreciatively over Prompto’s flushed cheeks, over his slightly parted lips. Prompto’s pretty sure he’s already drooling incoherently. Noct’s fingers dip into the sensitive slit of his cockhead and he _does_ drool, a thick line of saliva pooling at the corner of his mouth and running down his chin.

 

“Fuck,” Prompto’s a little incoherent, already. He’s trying to rock his hips up. His thighs are straining with the effort, because Noct’s weight is pinning him down. He wants to come, and he’s already goddamn close. Noct’s free hand shifts, lifts from his belly and slides back to nudge at the base of the toy. It shifts and bumps, and the pressure against his prostate has Prompto keening.

 

“That,” Noctis says, with a heavy stroke of Prompto’s cock and another evil, delicious press of the toy, “isn’t an answer.”

 

Prompto shudders, and he’s trying to think of a word. Words. An answer. Something, anything. The heat is pooling in his belly. All he can focus on is the rough friction of Noct’s hand working over his aching erection, the toy splitting him open and raw and getting him ready for _so_ much more. His eyes are unfocussed, wide, pupils already blown out as he stares up at Noct, up at that intense, violet gaze that’s breaking through him, working inside. Fuck.

 

“Please,” he gasps out, “fuck, _Highness,_ please, I want to come for you, a-as many times as you’ll let me—“

 

Noct smirks. He tightens his grip, until it’s almost painful, wrist twisting and flicking fingers rough over the wet tip of his cock. Prompto’s so hard, so achingly hard, his cock is jumping and twitching, the tight knot in his tummy is turning him inside out, his balls are drawing up tight and close to his body, he’s going to come—

 

Noct’s hand releases his cock, and slips down, to squeeze Prompto’s balls, and Prompto cries out as he feels it slipping away. It’s an ache, a desperate throbbing all through his body, his toes curling and his thighs trembling, and his head is spinning. He’s still so close, so on the edge, and he _knows,_ quite suddenly, that it really is going to be one of _those_ nights.

 

“Not yet,” Noctis says, running two fingers slow and languid up the side of Prompto’s shaft. “I don’t think you’ve earned it.”

 

Ten minutes later, Prompto’s eyes are watering, and tears are streaking down his cheeks, and he feels absolutely no shame from that. He’s too far gone for shame. His thighs are jelly. His stomach is clenched so tight, it _hurts._ There’s a pool of precome on his stomach, thick and messy and sticky, and his cock is so goddamn hard, it feels like he’s going to explode.

 

Noctis has shifted his weight back, at least. He’s got Prompto’s thighs nudged wider apart. One finger is slowly circling the angry red head of his cock. Prompto’s erection is outright weeping, and the tiny, teasing motion is so smooth, little, desperate jolts of pleasure. It’s not enough to push him over the edge, normally, but he’s teetering on an edge, one so perilous that Prompto’s biting his lip, head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut, and it’s all his effort to not come, just from that delicate little touch.

 

“Not until I say so,” Noctis warns, when Prompto whimpers, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. His hips are bucking up entirely on their own accord now. Every single muscle in his body is strained, standing out, and he wants to come more than he’s ever wanted _anything._

“Highness,” Prompto manages to whimper. His wrists are already rubbed damn near raw from the constant shifting and chafing, and his fingers hurt from how tightly they’re clenched. Everything hurts. Everything feels fucking _amazing._

Noct’s other hand is busy rubbing at the flared base of the plug that’s still buried inside. He shifts it, purposely avoiding that sensitive spot inside, and Prompto whines, half-appreciative, half goddamn needy. He wonders, in a vague, displaced kind of way, exactly what Noct will do if he comes anyway. He’s not really sure if he cares.

 

Fingers curl around the base of the toy, and Noct’s tugging it out, and Prompto gasps and shifts his hips and lifts up as best as he can. It’s a smooth, desperate kind of friction, his rim stretching to accommodate the toy, and it reminds him of how badly he wants to be _properly_ filled, to feel something, anything, another toy, Noct’s cock – _whatever –_ fucking into him and destroying him.

 

“Messy little thing, aren’t you?” Noctis murmurs, as he pulls the toy fully out, leaving Prompto stretched open, his hole puffy and swollen and gaping, and Prompto doesn’t have the presence of mind to care, to be embarrassed at the way Noct’s eyeing him. “Desperate for a cock, aren’t you?”

 

“Yeah,” Prompto thinks he’s saying. He’s not sure. He’s lifting up, spreading his thighs so wide it pulls at his muscles and stretches them taut and aches so good. Noct’s still teasing the head of his cock, and Prompto wonders if he might die from this. He’s pretty sure he’s about to pass out. His lungs can’t suck up air fast enough. “ _Please.”_

 

“Please what?” Oh god, _oh fuck,_ Noct’s fingers are tracing, around Prompto’s swollen entrance, a finger dips inside, and Prompto keens out.

 

“Please,” he’s begging, it’s a mantra, his eyes are shut and his whole body is tense, on fire, “please, I wanna come, please.”

 

Noctis, goddamn him, beautiful fucking prince he is, laughs, and it’s a quiet, eager sound. “Greedy slut,” he says, and two fingers press inside of Prompto, thick and filling, crooking up to hook into his prostate, and Prompto _screams._ His cock outright jumps, heavy and hard against his belly, and the world goes white. It’s an explosion, it’s Prompto’s mind shutting down, his orgasm crashing over him, leaving him a crying, sobbing, incoherent mess. He spurts hot, white mess over his belly, hard and thick enough to coat his chest and his chin and make a ruined mess of the sheets. Prompto’s not aware of that though, because he’s drawn up tight, his hips are bucking, he’s working through mindless euphoria, fingers grappling for purchase where they’re restrained, and when he stops screaming, he keeps mouthing wordlessly, Noct’s name on his lips but nothing coming out except desperate, ragged, needy breaths.

 

Noct’s fingers work into him, until it starts to hurt, until the mindless pressure inside has shifted from pleasure into something more, into overstimulation, such a borderline-painful sensation that Prompto’s desperately trying to shift his hips away. His cock is angry and messy on his belly, lying wet in a pool of come, still twitching and drooling the final strands of his release.

 

“ _Please,”_ Prompto gasps out, when he finds words. His heart is still pounding and his lungs haven’t caught up. It’s hard to breathe. He feels like he’s going to pass out. Noct’s fingers hook right into his prostate and _tug,_ and it pulls another rough, frantic sound from Prompto’s lips, “No more, _please,_ I—“

 

“You know,” Noctis says. Fuck, somehow, impossibly, he still fucking sounds _bored,_ even though his chest is heaving, his eyes burning so bright, locked on Prompto’s. There’s a definite bulge in Noct’s pants, too, but he’s still _wearing_ them, even though he’s lazily palming over himself. “I didn’t actually tell you  to come. Pretty sure that’s treason or something, Prom.”

 

Prompto collapses back against the bed. Everything hurts, his thighs are shaking, and there’s another hot jolt of painful need as his overstimulated body is worked, a third finger of Noct’s working past his stretched rim to touch him deep inside. Prompto’s squirming, an overstimulated mess, and he can’t do anything but sob when Noct rubs over his prostate again. His cock is twitching, already half-hard again, or maybe his erection never fully went down, but he feels it building up again, already.

 

“Kill me, then,” Prompto sobs in time with another brutal stab inside, “please, fuck, anything.”

 

“Anything, huh?” Noctis withdraws his fingers, after another sharp curl that presses that damn spot that has him seeing stars. Prompto almost weeps out his joy. He forces his eyes open – wet, large, dolloping tears beading on his lashes – and he sees Noct go for the next toy. Fuck.

 

It’s Prompto’s favourite toy. A purple vibrator, a good ten inches long, thick, with a curved head, designed to nudge right into his prostate. There’s a number of settings on it, ones that Prompto knows _very_ well. He’s already groaning, straining against the binds as Noct spreads lube over the thick tip of the toy.

 

“Please,” Prompto whimpers, “no more.” He knows Noctis won’t stop. And really, Prompto absolutely doesn’t _want_ him to. Not really. His cock twitches its agreement, and Prompto’s hips are lifting of their own accord, displaying his gaping, twitching hole, aching and desperate to be filled again.

 

Noctis rolls his eyes and laughs, as he shifts closer, tugging Prompto’s ass up into his lap, legs thrown to either side of Noct’s thighs, “you sure about that? Looks like you wanna be filled again.” Prompto tries to muster up some sort of a response, something clever, but it’s all lost on him when the tip of the vibrator pushes up inside.

 

The angle’s deeper now, Prompto’s hips lifted up off the bed, and it feels _good._ It’s so much, instantly, the vibrator not as thick as the plug had been, but it’s longer, working deeper, splitting him open in new ways. It has Prompto fully hard again, his cock throbbing and swollen on his belly, as Noct slowly works the toy in and out with slow, languid thrusts. The curved head of the cock drags along Prompto’s inner walls, hits his prostate and he’s desperately oversensitive, writhing and gasping and panting and trying to twist out of Noct’s lap with every drag of the toy over the hypersensitive little bundle of muscles.

 

“Fuck, Noctis,” Prompto whines, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to cry again.

 

“That’s not my name,” Noctis replies, eyes narrowed, and he turns the toy on, and it buzzes to life inside, making Prompto outright see fucking stars exploding before his vision. The world goes blurry, his insides are on fire, and it feels so good it _hurts._ Prompto thinks he might scream, thinks maybe he’ll pass out, because he’s already close to coming again.

 

“Highness,” Prompto manages, somehow, mindless, his voice far-off and distant, and Noct messes with the little dial, adjusts the setting, until it’s a dull, insistent buzz, nudged right against his prostate. Prompto’s shaking, outright trembling, his cock leaking fat beads of precome all over his already messy tummy. His muscles are clenching and tensing nonstop, and he feels stuffed, uncomfortably _full,_ so desperate and needy and ready to come, but it _hurts_ too. And hell, Prompto doesn’t know if he just wants to shove Noctis away and go to sleep, or if he wants this to keep going _forever._

 

Noctis changes the setting on the toy again, and this time, Prompto really does fucking scream.

 

It’s his favourite setting. The toy has all the normal features of a vibrator, seven different vibrating functions, ranging in intensity and pattern. It also has three speeds of thrusting action, and Prompto’s reduced to an incoherent mess as the toy starts to thrust in, the thick head grinding into his prostate with every motion.

 

“Think you should put on a show for me,” Noct’s voice is low, and somehow, it cuts through everything. It cuts through the haze of pleasure, it cuts through the hypersensitive pain coursing through Prompto’s veins, it breaks into his very mind. It has Prompto frantically keeping his watery eyes open, even as he’s sobbing, even as tears are streaking down his cheeks. Noct keeps one hand on the toy, simply holding it there, while it thrusts into him in quick, powerful, circular motions. The other hand’s tugging at Prompto’s balls, fondling the sensitive sacs and rolling them between clever fingers, and Prompto knows he isn’t gonna last long.

 

 _“Please,”_ he mumbles. It’s a goddamn miracle Prompto can say anything at all, “Highness, wanna come, please, please, _please,”_ the words are a fucking mantra. He feels like he’s on fire. He’s all spread and pulled thin, tense and aching, his cock a mess against his belly, twitching on its own. His balls feel full, even though he’s just emptied them all over himself. Prompto’s rushing headlong to the edge, and the toy inside of him feels _so_ good, has him stuffed and full and _so_ goddamn ready.

 

And Noctis, bless his fucking heart, wraps his fingers around Prompto’s stiff flesh and jerks him fast and rough, the movements slick from the mess he’s already made, “come on then, Prom, let me see you.”

 

Quite honestly, it’s a miracle that Prompto doesn’t pass out, because he’s so lightheaded as he throws his head back into the mattress and comes, hard, that the world seems to slip out of his grasp for a few minutes. Prompto doesn’t have the strength to scream. He can’t do anything but make pathetic, needy noises, jaw slack, eyes wide and unseeing, hips jerks desperate and frantic in every direction – forward, into Noct’s hand, then back again, into the toy that’s thrusting perfect and strong and raw into him. It’s absolute fireworks, it’s the best orgasm Prompto’s ever had in his life, it’s the world exploding.

 

Except Noctis doesn’t stop touching him.

 

The toy slips out a little, and Noct pushes it firmly back into place. It’s a stab of pressure directly into Prompto’s prostate, and he finds his voice, finds the strength to gasp out a choked, frantic, pained moan. Noct’s fingers jerk his cock, milking strands of come from him until they’re oozing down the side of his length. Prompto’s not really sure how he has any left in him, but somehow, he’s shot another load sticky and wet across his chest. He’s covered, he’s a mess, and there’s still final little spurts, caught by the swipe of Noct’s fingers across the wet, swollen head of his cock.

 

“Hurts,” Prompto whimpers, trying to draw his hips away, “Noct, please, _hurts.”_

 

Noct’s fingers still, just for a moment. The hand pressed against the toy gently eases it out, and Prompto feels empty and spread wide again, but the relief works through him, the hypersensitive spot inside of him too much for him to handle right now. Noct’s hands are working gentle circles on Prompto’s inner thighs, massaging out the kinks and tenseness, and it has Prompto sighing, relaxing into the mattress.

 

“Forgetting your manners,” Noct’s voice has an edge to it, but there’s some kindness there, too. His talented fingers knead at a particularly sore point in Prompto’s thigh, and he relaxes, sighs out as he sinks deeper into the mattress. Prompto’s whole body is exhausted and heavy, and he’s a total mess, absolutely blissed out on two orgasms now, and he’s vaguely aware that it isn’t over, but Noct taking care of him? It feels nice.

 

“Highness,” Prompto breathes out, and he finds the energy to arch his back. Noct’s talented fingers shift, tracing up his thighs, circling his swollen, puffy red rim with a thumb, and it has Prompto twitching and rocking his hips into the touch. His sore, overstimulated, wet cock, somehow, jumps on his belly and oozes a new, sticky stream of come. Fuck. It hurts. It hurts so good.

 

“That’s a good boy,” Noctis encourages, voice low, and Prompto _moans._ His cock is getting hard again. How the hell is he getting hard again? He’s tired and he wants to sleep, but Noctis is calling him a _good boy,_ and he’s touching him. Noct’s fingers drift up, and they press firmly into Prompto’s perineum, rubbing his prostate indirectly from the outside, and Prompto’s breath catches in his throat, a low moan tearing out.

  
“Wanna feel you, Highness, please,” Prompto begs. He outright fucking begs, and he’s shameless about it. Noct’s fingers tickle over his balls, making him squirm, and then one long, pale finger traces over the heavy vein underneath his cock, swirling around the ridge of the head, swiping through the thick come.

 

“Think you have at _least_ one more in you, huh?” Noctis says in that same quiet voice. Prompto tries to lift his head up, and he groans when he realizes Noct’s _finally_ got his pants tugged down his hips. His cock’s aching and hard and glistening at the tip, where he’s leaking. That, somehow, is what lights the fire in Prompto again, what has him shuddering and arching and putting himself on display. Noct’s getting off to _him,_ and even though they’re playing at power dynamics here, even though Prompto’s entirely at Noct’s mercy, somehow, he’s got some control.

 

 

He’s making Noctis hard. He’s got the fucking Crown Prince of Lucis all worked up, and that’s the hottest thing Prompto’s ever fucking felt.

 

Noctis reaches for the third, final toy on the bed, and Prompto rolls his hips up eagerly. His body’s already drawn to the very limits, and he’s a trembling, blissed out mess, but he _wants it,_ goddamnit.

 

The third toy is a slender, sharply curved glass dildo. It’s got a ridged end that Prompto knows _very well_ nudges into his prostate from the outside, while the curved head works him inside. It’s a toy that doesn’t require a good deal of motion, because the clenching of his ass and the movement of his hips will work it perfectly, will get him there all on its own. Noct doesn’t really need any lube, because Prompto’s ass is already worked up, sloppy and dripping from the previous fucks, but he lubes it up anyway.

 

The glass is cold and slick when it slides into Prompto’s ass, and it makes him shiver. It’ll warm up fast – it always does – but those first few moments are always intense, always have Prompto gasping and trembling. It’s worse, a million times worse, because he’s worked open and sore and so precariously riding the line between good and _way too fucking much,_ it should be illegal.

 

“You do the work,” Noctis says, when he gets the toy firmly inside, the rounded, blunt, hooked head settling in right against Prompto’s prostate, and he draws his hand away. Prompto gasps and groans and works at his binds, but his hands aren’t coming free. His hips jerk on their own accord, though, and it drives the toy in, stimulates him from both ends, and it’s an explosion, a sharp burst of sensation so intense, there’s a fresh wave of tears streaming down his cheeks.

 

Noctis draws away, and the shift has the toy pressing deep inside, working against that tight bundle of nerves so hard that Prompto’s pretty sure he’s going to pass out. He doesn’t know how his cock is hard again. His eyes are mostly unseeing, all blurred with tears and lust and _too much_ happening. Noct’s sitting back though, perching between Prompto’s wide-spread thighs and stroking his cock, running his palm flat along the underside, swirling the tips of his fingers around the head, eyes fixated directly on Prompto.

 

Fuck.

 

“Please, Highness,” Prompto manages. His hips are jerking on their own again, they have a mind of their own, and Prompto can’t stop it. He’s too sensitive, too sore, and he needs it to stop, but he _can’t,_ because each shift has the toy drawing out feelings that are too intense for him to comprehend, have his cock drooling on his messy stomach. “Please, I can’t…”

 

Noct’s own erection twitches. He’s working a spot just under the head with his thumb, sighing and shifting his hips, his other hand dipped below to cup his own heavy balls, rolling them in his hand. They seem full and sore, and Prompto wants Noct to empty them, deep inside of him.

 

“Fuck me,” Prompto tries to say again, and it comes out as an intense, high whine. He’s pretty sure there’s a sob in there, too.

 

Noctis shudders. There’s a moment where Prompto thinks that he’s going to deny him – but then Noct’s moving forward, reaching in to wrench the curved toy out of him viciously, and Prompto gasps out his relief.

 

He can’t do anything but whimper when Noctis grabs him roughly by the hips and flips him. Prompto tries to hoist himself up, to steady himself on his elbows and his knees, but Noct’s got a rough hand pressed in his hair, and he’s pushing Prompto’s face into the mattress. The force of it, combined with how exhausted Prompto is, with how his entire body is trembling and shaking, has him collapsing, has him rutting his cock against the mattress as Noct sprawls heavily over top of him.

 

Prompto screams into the blankets when Noct’s cock drives into him. He’s already split open and messy, and his ass stretches and welcomes Noct’s twitching, heated length, swallowing him up like he was born to take his prince’s cock in his ass. And really, Prompto’s pretty sure he was. He’s positive that he only feels complete when Noct’s fucking him like this. He wants to open his mouth to say it, but another sob comes out instead.

 

“You like that?” Noct’s saying, rough and harsh in his ear, and when he bites down on Prompto’s shoulder rough enough to draw blood, Prompto can only gasp out. It’s an attempt at a cry, but his lungs are burning, he can’t breathe, he can’ think, he can only try to claw at the blankets with hands that are still bound together.

 

“You’re such a fucking whore, Prompto,” Noctis continues. He’s sprawled so heavy, pinning Prompto down, and each frenzied rock of his hips drives Prompto’s cock into the mattress harder, firmer, splits his ass open wide and deep. It’s got Prompto pushed to the edge, hard and needy and leaking, and fuck, he’s going to come _again,_ impossibly. “You’re my whore. You belong to _me.”_

 

Prompto’s pretty sure that if he could look over his shoulder, could get a glimpse of Noctis, his eyes would be burning bright violet, full of magic and crackling with mystical energy. He’s positive that Noct would look _so_ good, fucking into him. Prompto can’t though. He can’t lift his head, can only moan weakly and sob his pleasure and press his face into the mattress. The blankets are rubbing his cheek raw, are torture, catching and dragging on his hyperstimulated, angry cock, drawing him so close, holding him there.

 

“You wanna take it? Dirty slut, you want me to fill you up?” Noct’s thrusts are quickly growing frenzied, desperate, shifting from deep rocking motions to rough thrusts, outright pounding Prompto’s exhausted, shaking body deeper into the mattress.

 

“Please,” Prompto manages, somehow, even though his voice is cracked, even though he’s crying, his face red and messy, eyes puffy and swollen from tears, hair slicked to his forehead. He’s sweaty, he hurts, his body is screaming for more and less at the same time, and Prompto’s pulled in a thousand different directions.

 

 _“Mine,”_ Noctis hisses. There’s sharp pain – another bite, this one at the back of his neck – and then Noct’s hips are jerking, working in quick, angry little circles. The heat floods into Prompto, damn well fills him up, wet, messy release working into every bit of his being, and somehow, that’s what does it. It’s a miracle he can come again, really, but Prompto whimpers and gasps and it’s Noct’s name on his lips as he ruts into the mattress, spurting a few pathetic, final streams of release across the blankets. It’s mostly a dry orgasm, and it absolutely devours Prompto, has his mind blanking out around the edges, the world turning into a hot, dark mess as he collapses into the bed, as Noct’s weight settles down heavy against his back, and Prompto drifts, blissed out, his ass aching pleasantly, his cock throbbing painfully, everything _hurting_ in such a perfect way.

 

Prompto whimpers when Noct withdraws in a wet mess. He whines when Noct rolls him back around onto his back. He’s vaguely aware of hands working the thick straps off his wrist, massaging sensation back into them – jerking a little as fingers brush over the black mark on his wrist – and it hurts, but it’s a good hurt.

 

“You did good,” Noct’s saying, quiet and gentle, and Prompto flexes his fingers, feeling them tingle and ache. His wrists are raw. He hurts all over, and he’s a sticky, wet, sweaty mess. Prompto blearily blinks wet eyes open, and they hurt too, because he’s cried himself broken and sore. He wants, really, to sink into the mattress and sleep, for a week. His eyes are unfocused, a blissed out mess, pupils huge.

 

“Noct,” Prompto says, and his throat hurts. His voice is half-gone, and everything, really, is just raw and aching. “… good. ‘s good.”

 

“You’re good,” Noctis agrees, and he carefully draws Prompto into his arms. In a few minutes, he’ll get up, he’ll run a nice, hot bath and he’ll gently worship Prompto’s body, fingers massaging away all the aches and pains and washing away all the dried come and sweat. For now though, Prompto likes to be held, and Noct _knows_ that. He draws his arms around Prompto’s waist, ignoring the sticky mess on his skin, lips pressed into the back of his neck.

 

“ ‘m yours, you know,” Noct adds, breathless, with a quiet little laugh, and Prompto, exhausted as he is, manages to shift himself back, to press up against Noct and get himself curled up in such a way, that they fit together perfectly. Like they’re made for each other.

 

“Mine,” Prompto agrees. There’s still a few stray tears running down his cheeks. And he hurts. But it’s good. “And yours.” He reaches down, sticky hand finding Noct’s, and their fingers twine together.

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't posted pure PWP on ao3 in a while. that's what tumblr is for. :p i also don't go on the kink meme anymore, but someone pointed this prompt in my direction cuz they know my jam. and let's be real, prompto calling noct 'highness' in bed and getting blissed out and overstimulated is literally my kink. i couldn't say no. then it turned into 6k words of my fav thing and i figured i'd share with the world here, too. 
> 
> anyway, shuffles off into the night, sometimes you just need to write a good dirty smut scene w/o any plot LMAO.
> 
> follow me on tumblr @destatree or twitter @thatdest , most of my porn goes there. :p


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